Lost Souls
by IrishTwilight
Summary: Almnegra is a demon. But when she comes across Sam and learns of his brother in Hell, we discover she’s not exactly as she seems. Takes place between seasons 3 and 4. Spoilers up to 4x10
1. Chapter 1: Keep trying but I'm broken

CHAPTER 1: Diner talk

_Sitting in the dark_

_Shaking in a cold wind_

_Dying to be well_

_Keep trying but I'm broken_

_A kiss on my lips that used to thrill me_

_If I go another day it's gonna kill me._

It was chance.

Either that or he's the most paranoid person I've ever met. Whatever the reason, there I was grabbing a bite to eat at the smallest diner in the state, when the young man chatting with the matronly waitress at the counter muttered under his breath.

"Christo."

I flinched.

His eyes found me so fast I was too shocked to move. Who was this guy?

By the time I got over my surprise, he was standing beside me with the blade of a knife surreptitiously pressed against the back of my shoulder. I smiled.

"For a second there, I thought you were smart," I informed him sweetly, "but you're making a huge mistake if you think that knives scare me."

His eyes hardened into a dark green. "It'll be _your_ mistake when I kill you with it, bitch."

His memories flashed through my mind. _A blonde wielding a knife, stabbing a man with dark eyes in the throat, the wound glowing gold as he falls to the floor ... a man, expression fierce, stabbing a woman in the ribs from behind, again the wound glowing gold ... the same man, looking a little the worse for wear, holding a knife triumphantly before the angry blonde in a Devil's Trap ... and the same carved knife from all of these memories, falling silently from limp fingers to clatter forgotten to the polished wood floor –_

His mind was closed to me abruptly.

I met his hard stare in surprise. His gaze was steely, revealing nothing, and my curiosity was piqued.

"Okay, tough guy," I conceded. "We'll do this your way." I stood up from the booth slowly and the knife disappeared, but I had no doubt it remained within easy reach.

"Smile," he bit out under his breath as we made our way towards the door.

"What?" I threw over my shoulder. He didn't answer and I followed his gaze to the waitress he'd been speaking with earlier. She was regarding us carefully. I gave her my friendliest smile. A bell rang and she turned to the pick-up window, satisfied.

As the hunter steered me into the street, I was aware of the way he towered over me and his bruising grip on my upper arm. "Careful of that grip, sasquatch."

"Shut up!" he ordered sharply, without looking at me. And, if anything, held my arm tighter.

I realized I was walking a fine line with his nonexistent patience. But, by nature, I couldn't resist testing him.

"Don't I at least get to _try_ to explain myself?" I was starting to actually be worried. Sasquatch knew what he was doing. My arms tugged against the bindings again, but I was helpless – the Devil's Trap painted onto the floor made sure of that.

"I don't care about anything you have to say," he replied from where he leaned against the wall of the warehouse. "You're a demon. You want me dead, I want you dead." He took three steps towards me, until he was leaning over my chair threateningly. "But unlike you, I'm actually going to get what I want."

His smile scared me. For the first time I worried I wouldn't get out of this.

But there was a memory attached to something he had just said ... for a moment I caught a flash of the same man who had held the knife in the other memories –

"Well, I've had enough of this fun, time to send you home." He stepped back a little. I expected him to pull a book from somewhere, or at least a piece of paper, and start reading me an exorcism. What I didn't expect was for him to start reciting one from memory ... and for the words to burn inside of me.

"Wait! Stop! You're... making ... a mistake," I panted through the pain.

He continued chanting.

"No, really. I'm not like ... the others."

I raised my bowed head to meet his eyes. I could see in them that there would be no mercy, no reaction to my pleas. If he felt bad for what he was doing to me at all, he was locking that emotion so deep down he'd never feel it. I knew then that I was really going back.

But as our eyes were locked, I realized that with his concentration on the exorcism, I could again see into his mind. Flashes of memory assaulted me.

_A young boy held a baby and ran with him from a burning house ... Two young boys in a motel room alone, the older making dinner, getting the younger ready for bed, holding him through the nightmares ... Brother ... Protector ... _

_... The man pulling his grown-up younger brother from a room awash in flames while a young woman burned on the ceiling ... A vision of a dark demon above a baby's crib, letting blood fall from his wrist into the baby's mouth ... The man holding his brother, Sasquatch – Sammy—as a vision of death tore through his head ... Two brothers riding in a car, salt guns and holy water in the trunk ... A dark, empty town and a figure melting out of the darkness and stabbing the younger brother in the back ... his older brother catching him as he fell to his knees ..._

_... A graveyard and a Devil's Gate ... "I killed you." ..._

_... "Did I die?" ... "Did you sell your soul for me like dad did for you?" ..._

"_One year. I got one year."..._

_...and finally, hellhounds, ripping that man, that big brother, protector, best friend, tearing him til he bled all over the pristine wood floor ..._

_Dean_

My head had bowed as I concentrated on the images, thoughts, and feelings, but as they ended the agony of the exorcism tore into me again and I raised my eyes to his ... Sammy's.

"It was you."

He paused for a moment, surprised.

"You were there when the Gate opened."

For a second, guilt flashed across his expression. "I couldn't stop it in time. But now I'm here making it right. Sending you back."

I thought for a moment. We watched each other in silence. He seemed to be waiting for a retort.

"Okay," I said simply. "I'll say hello to Dean for you."

He couldn't hide the pain this time. For a moment he floundered, unsure of how he should take what I had just said. I watched the emotions war within him ... trust ... gratitude ... hurt ... betrayal ... anger.

He chose anger. I didn't expect him to believe that I was honest. But I was. So I bowed my head and prayed for this Sam to take care of the woman I embodied ...

... and for the agony to end soon.

TBC

Lyrics from Day of Fire's _Dark Hills_ (Although I originally fell in love with the electric version, the acoustic version can be viewed live here /watch?v-eiRfx1wLmU . The song is not yet recorded.)

Please let me know what you thought of this. All criticism is appreciated. ;)


	2. Chapter 2: I wonder if I'm too far gone

CHAPTER 2: I wonder if I'm too far gone

_Slipped into a dream _

_Woke up in a nightmare _

_Scars on my skin _

_Don't know how they got there _

_How heavy was the crown of thorns? _

_I wonder if I'm too far gone._

_~Dark Hills, Day of Fire_

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was overwhelming.

After over a year of freedom, the return to Hell was worse than I'd imagined.

I curled in upon myself and concentrated on just existing.

Eventually, I calmed enough to manifest a form. I still looked awful ... but it was preferable to existing as smoke.

At first, the volume of pain-filled, terrified screaming drove me to my knees. I rested there, concentrating on blocking out the deafening, heart-wrenching sound into the background. When I had managed that, I raised my head to find myself in the midst of a rocky wasteland. Fires burned off to the left, giving my rough, black skin and orange glow.

The smoke that rose obscured any view of what might be found above and reflected the flames, creating the image of an angry red sky.

Eventually I stood and began making my way across the rocky, barren wasteland.

I had a brother to find.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The wicked-looking knife slipped in his hand, the blood coating the jagged blade and running down the handle, forcing him to adjust his grip before lowering the blade to the flesh once more. His stomach was now a solid knot, his eyes empty and hollow. Nothing affected him anymore. No amount of blood turned his stomach, no screamed platitudes wrenched his heart or brought tears to his eyes. Nothing remained of his humanity. And he blocked off the part of his mind that still mourned its loss.

As he dug the blade once more into the flesh of the soul before him, he looked into the scattering of demons around him, taking part in the torture, their teeth gleaming in the firelight as grins of sadistic pleasure split their hideous faces.

One demon caught his attention. It wasn't tearing into the soul on the rack. It was watching him. With an intensity that bordered on obsession, the black eyes regarded him. He turned away, the fear that was his constant companion in this place flaring at the scrutiny.

He felt more than saw the demon move towards him, stopping behind him and leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"I've seen Sam."

The name woke something inside of him. Something he's let go of and lost the moment he got off the rack and went from victim to tormentor.

He stamped it back down. Shooting a glare over his shoulder in the demon's direction, he bared his teeth and returned to his work with renewed vigour.

Something that might have resembled disappointment flickered across the demon's face, but he ignored it and focussed instead on the knife and the blood. The screams and the pleas. The black hopelessness of his doomed soul.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was back.

The demon. The one who stalked him with its cold granite eyes.

But with Alastair looming over his shoulder, the fear made it easier for him to ignore the stalker.

But when Alastair moved away, the stalker snuck up beside him to whisper with fetid breath in his ear once more.

"You are not yet lost. I've seen Sammy."

The stone surrounding his heart cracked. He stared at the bloodied knife in his hand as though seeing it for the first time. His throat felt tight.

Then Alastair moved back to hover by his shoulder and the fear overwhelmed him. He plunged the cold knife into the burning flesh of the whimpering soul laid out on the rack before him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Something happened the next day.

The demons became distracted, buzzing with news of some kind. One by one they crept away. Dean paid them no mind, continuing the job Alastair had set him without looking up. He lost himself in the grisly torture to avoid his curiosity lest Alastair notice. Sometimes he hated himself for his fear.

A shift in the atmosphere caused Dean to risk a look. There were only two minor demons left joining the torture.

And Alastair had left.

The hand holding the knife fell limply to his side as he looked around, searching for the demon who had broken him. But all he found were the eyes of the stalker. The one who knew the name.

It spoke to him again, the whisper carrying to his ears eerily as though it was meant for him.

"I've seen Sam."

That name again. _Sam._

Blood dripped steadily from the knife hanging loosely at his side.

"Come and I'll tell you about Sammy."

His feet moved of their own accord, the bare, calloused soles scraping across the oddly warm stone.

Without conscious thought, he found himself standing in front of the stalker. The whisperer. The one who spoke the name.

_Sam_. That name. The one that flits through his mind in a constant loop as though it can't be forgotten. But he has forgotten. No face comes to mind. No other details.

But at that whisper of the name at his ears, feelings overwhelm him. Laughter. Fierce protectiveness. Safety. Love. Things he thought he'd forgotten and buried years ago somewhere in this hole.

"Sam." His voice, rough from disuse, sounded odd to his own ears. But the demon looked satisfied. It beckoned to him with one hand, then turned and moved through the rocks.

He followed, the name and the feelings still haunting his barren soul.

_Sam._

~*~*~*~*~*~

TBC


End file.
